


Reunion

by Crazypreacher



Category: Darkwater Hall - Catherine Fisher
Genre: F/M, Mysticism, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazypreacher/pseuds/Crazypreacher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah wonders about the nature of enigmatic and elusive Lord Azrael and, most surprisingly of all, seems to have found the answer.</p><p>I never actually knew how much I love Catherine Fisher until I started to make fanfiction of her works. "Darkwater Hall" is probably my favourite book by her so far. That twist at the end...! </p><p>Wouldn't advise on reading this if you haven't read the novel. Depending on how much of a religion nerd you are, the ending of the original novel and this pairing either make all the sense in the world or none at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Possible listening:  
> "Tamana" by Niyaz (or anything by Niyaz, really)  
> "The Dark Night of the Soul" by Loreena McKennitt  
> "Yours Again" and "Take Me Over" by RED

Throughout the century, Sarah's journey, or rather, flight, had taken her to a lot of places. In Rome she had seen a sculpture of a woman and an angel, who was piercing her with a spear. Sarah was told that this was Saint Teresa of Ávila, who had experienced a union with God. As beautiful as the sculpture was, there was something about it that made Sarah uncomfortable. She looked away.

In Constantinople, she had seen a gathering of men of different ages and skin colours, who were spinning slowly around their own axis, their white skirts swirling around them like bells. She asked her guide:

"What's it all about?"

The guide answered in broken French:

"They love God, mam'selle. They think they are closer to God, like that."

Sarah was perplexed, but didn't inquire anymore that day.

Time had passed, and she had learned more about religion and mysticism and history and many other different subjects, but still the emotion that drove Saint Teresa and the whirling dervishes, the love for God, remained peculiar to her. How was it possible to love and be loved in return by an all-powerful, ever-present cosmic force?

***

Now that she was released and her contract was over, she had a lot to do. But the one question that had never let her go, whatever other things might have been on her mind, was this: who, or what, was Lord Azrael? She desired to know the truth as much as she feared the possible answer.

Throughout her second life - no, her only life - Sarah had often dreamt of Lord Azrael. Dozing off during a lecture at the college, tumbling into bed after a day of work, drowsing while sunbathing on a beach in Mallorca, falling asleep next to her lover, she would dream of this man, despite the fact that the number of times she had seen him could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

In her dream, she was in Azrael's study. Or, maybe, it was a vast cave, or a throne room, or a cathedral. She was never sure when she woke up, and it seemed to change even as she was kneeling in its middle.

The room was divided in two by a veil that hung from the ceiling to the floor. She could only see the outline of the one who was on the other side, but she knew that it was Azrael. And the moment she knew that, she knew also that nothing in the world was as important as what was behind the veil. She had never wanted anything as much as she wanted to come across.

"I want to come to you," she said. "Behind the veil."

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Azrael's voice answered. "It's not time for you to come yet."

"When will it be the time?"

"You'll know."

"I was so alone."

"No, Sarah. You were never alone."

Sarah rose to her feet and stepped towards the veil. And the moment she did that, she was awake.

***

A lot of years had passed, and Sarah had found that after the better part of two centuries real life didn't held much interest for her anymore. Now she found pleasure in dreaming instead and slept more than ever.

Once she fell asleep, and the dream she saw was different from any other dream she had ever had. This one was much more vivid, if no less bizarre.

She was back at Darkwater Hall. But this time, instead of instilling fear in her, the sight of the manor made her giddy with joy.

She went around the manor, marvelling at the fact that it was exactly as she remembered it. As she approached the back yard, she saw a man in a large, wide-brimmed hat cutting the grass. The man looked very old, but very lively nonetheless. He had long grey hair and beard and black inquisitive eyes.

"Greetings," he told her.

"Greetings," Sarah answered. "My name is Sarah."

"Sarah?" The man appeared startled. "But you're not... Ah, you're _that_ Sarah. Sarah Trevelyan, who once owned this place?"

"Yes, exactly."

"The master has been expecting you. You were looking for him, were you not?"

"Yes," Sarah answered and realised at once that it was the truth, even though she hadn't given any thought as to why she was at the manor again.

"He should be inside the house somewhere."

"Thank you."

Sarah ran to the front door. As she approached it and put her hand on the handle, she heard a familiar voice:

"Runnin' up to thy master like a cat in spring, aye?"

She turned. Indeed, it was that tramp again, still as ragged-looking as ever.

"You can come, too, you know," she said. "He'll take you back."

"Never. A man's pride won't stand for it."

"I suppose so."

Sarah went inside, not bothering herself with him anymore.

The manor was empty, half-dark and quiet. As she was walking down the hallway, she came across a mirror on the wall and noticed that she looked as if she were young again and was wearing a blue dress - ah, how she had loved that dress! - and a string of pearls. That didn't surprised her and she had no time to be surprised at any rate, for she had to find Azrael.

She was opening one door after another, but there was no one in sight. Finally, one of the doors opened into what seemed to be a bedchamber. A lady in a blue dress and a blue headscarf was sitting behind a weaving loom. She raised her eyes and met Sarah's.

"I am sorry for disturbing you," Sarah said.

"That's nothing. Would you be Sarah Trevelyan?" the lady asked. Sarah noticed that she was very beautiful.

"Yes, that's me."

"My son has been waiting for you. He is down there, under the earth, by the river."

"Thank you very much," Sarah said sincerely.

She bowed and ran back, to the familiar little door on the first floor, under the landing. She tugged at the door, but the door was locked.

"Can I be of assistance?" a voice behind her said. She turned and saw a man in a green robe and a green turban. She could only tell that it was a man by his voice, because his face was completely covered with the cloth. She could only see a gleam of his eyes through a small slit in the green fabric and his hands.

"I need to see Lord Azrael," Sarah told him. "I was told he is down there, but the door is locked."

"I am the housekeeper of Lord Azrael. I have the keys and could open the door for you. Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes," Sarah said, and again she knew that it was the truth. "My name is Sarah Trevelyan, I was told that he was waiting for me."

"Ah, certainly!" The man opened the door for her. "Welcome, welcome back, lady!"

Sarah thanked him and started to descend down the narrow, shaky steps, first slowly, then faster and faster. Her heart was beating madly with anticipation. The thunder of the river was becoming louder and louder, but still not loud enough to drown the nasal voice of Scrab:

"Well, well, well, look who's back."

"Hush it, Scrab," said another voice, the one she had only heard from behind the veil all those years. "She had to come a long way."

"I should well 'ope so," snarled the servant. "Wouldn't say no to livin' a couple of centuries long, meself."

Sarah didn't hear him. She was looking at Azrael only. He, too, was exactly as she remembered him.

"I'm back," she said.

"Yes, you're back," he said. He was sitting in the boat, ready to sail. He held out his hand to her. "Come with me, Sarah. Return to your source."

She came up to the boat, very calmly, and climbed into it, holding his hand, reserved as a soldier. And only when they both had set down properly, she fell on his chest.

"I was so alone," she repeated.

"No, Sarah," he repeated. "You never was. Now there's simply no longer a veil. Let's sail."

And sail they did.


End file.
